WEARY of my own weight, I sallied forth one fine morning in January, with fifty guineas in my pocket, bent on finding myself well mounted on a good hackney. It is now the 15th of March, and I am still without a horse, and minus far more than fifty guineas, except a right of action against a dealer, of doubtful solvency. The publication of my adventures in this Quixotic expedition and some former ones of a similar character, may possibly replace a part of my loss; if not, the next greatest pleasure to benefiting oneself, is, to do good to others! I will therefore give my friends the fruits of my horse-dealing experience.

My first recourse was, naturally enough, to the

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